The Better You Understand
by AnnaBolt45
Summary: AU. Blaine Anderson owns "Anderson's Acoustics," the best guitar shop in southern Manhattan. Natalie Sanderson is his new guitar student... but she holds a beautiful, silent secret hiding in her new apartent.
1. Prologue: Natalie

**A/N: I really need to have my brain slow down. Seriously, I'm going to have an aneurism before school even lets out in two weeks. But, sadly, being me, my ideas just seem to flow, and that is why I am here, dear readers. I came up with this idea for a movie about three months ago, and because I just couldn't seem to get words down, I decided to write it as a fanfiction and go from there. So, if this was ever written for a movie script and it was made, this would basically be a sneak preview for you guys! Anyways… enjoy!**

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_**Prologue**_

"Hello?"

Upon hearing the voice coming from the door, I jump up before realizing I'm still under the counter. I smashed the top of my skull into it, which in turn creates a loud 'thunk!' Looking at it now, I think I may have left a crack in the polished wood.

"Uh, hello?"

This time I paid attention, avoiding the edge of the counter and peeking out from behind it, my hand rubbing some feeling back into my skull.

The customer was a woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, with sleek brown hair pulled back by a blue ribbon, wearing an old McKinley High t-shirt and blue jeans. She's stunningly attractive to say the least… if I was into women, of course.

"I'm sorry," I whimpered, still kneeling behind the counter. "I'll be with you in a moment, just need to nurse my head for a sec."

She laughed. "Yeah, I was wondering what that was. You okay?"

I smile, standing to my full 5'8". Damn, she's still taller than me. Everyone is. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Trust me, I've had far worse." I hold my free hand out to her, putting on my most charming business smile. "Blaine Anderson, owner of Anderson's Acoustics."

The woman raises an eyebrow before taking my hand and shaking it. "Natalie Sanderson." She releases her grip and puts both hands on her hips. "I have to say, you look rather young to be the owner of the best guitar shop this side of the city. You can't be more than college age."

I shrug. "I'm 20. I went to NYU for a semester, but then I realized that just wasn't me. I enjoyed designing guitars and other instruments. So, I dropped out after a few semesters and moved down here, opened up this place and am now, as you put it, 'the owner of the best guitar shop this side of the city.'" I smiled again. "Thank for the compliment, by the way."

Her blue-green eyes sparkle brilliantly. "Of course! My friends couldn't stop raving this place. Which brings me to why I happen to be here." She scratched the back of her neck. "I was hoping you could give me guitar lessons."

I nod, going through the same business motions I go through everyday here. "Certainly. What type of lessons?"

"Acoustic guitar," she said, looking at the intricate patterns of the clarinet I was working on. "He- I've been interested in trying something new for a while."

I noticed the change she made at the beginning of the sentence, but I didn't know her life, so I was in no place to question it. "Okay, cool. Do you already have a guitar, or would you like me to help you pick one out?"

She shrugged. "I have one, but it's my husband's." She fingered the delicate swirls that I had etched into the mahogany acoustic I had finished just this morning. "But he likes to play it often, so I wouldn't really have the opportunity to bring it down here for lessons too much."

I stepped behind her, looking at the guitar as well as she ran her pale hands across the wood. "You seem to be taking particular interest in that one."

She glanced over her shoulder, smiling. "It's truly beautiful. All of the instruments in here are."

I blushed. "Thank you." I liked this woman. She wasn't too pushy, like some clients I worked with, and she took great interest in my work, which I didn't get from a lot of my patrons. I decided that, for her kindness, I could grant her something. "You know, if you pay for lessons, I'll give you the guitar for free."

Natalie spun abruptly, her eyes wide. "You- you'd do that?"

I smiled at her, nodding. "Sure. I mean, most of the people that come in here are so rude. They don't show any interest in the work that I do, and they don't treat me as kindly as you have in only five minutes. I'm merely returning the favor."

She rolled her eyes, although she still held her smile. "You can't just give me a guitar because I'm being nice to you."

I took the mahogany acoustic off of the wall, bringing it back to the counter to string it. "Sure I can. I'm the owner."

She laughed, still pulling her wallet out. She held her hands up in surrender when I gave her a mock glare. "Mr. Anderson, how am I going to pay for my lessons if I don't pull out my wallet?"

"You pay by lesson," I said, pushing her wallet away. "And we're going to be working together for a while, so no need for formalities. Call me Blaine."

She rolled her eyes, putting her wallet back in her pocket. "Fine. Thanks, Mr. An- I mean, Blaine."

Smiling, I strung her guitar, picked out a simple black latch case, and gave her some tips on how to take care of the wood and strings. She nodded, even took a few notes, then took her guitar and turned to leave.

Before the bell above the door was able to ding again as she closed it behind her, she turned back to me. "Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," she said, looking down with a blush. "It's not often that I work with people as kind as you are, and it's a nice change. I can't wait to learn from you."

I smiled wider. "I'm honored that you think that, Natalie, thank you."

She nodded, and as she headed out, I thought I should alert her of something.

"Natalie?"

"Yes?"

"The reason some people aren't that kind to me as well is because… well… I'm gay."

Natalie smirked. "And I care why?"

I laughed. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it."

"Trust me, Blaine, if I wasn't, I would have told you when I met you."

"What do you mean?"

The door was almost completely closed before she winked at me and said, "It's kind of obvious."

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**A/N: Hello again. Sadly everybody, I'm going to take off for a few weeks. School is finishing up, so I have to focus on final exams, and concentrate on things a little. I'll be working, trust me, I just won't be posting. Everything I've written will be posted June 12th to celebrate my graduation from sophomore year. Look forward to it. **  
**Also, guess what? Wednesday, May 30th is my 16th birthday! Woot! The best gift you guys could giv me is to support my stories with reviews, favorites, and alerts.**  
**Thanks guys! Love you all. See you June 12th. :)**


	2. Kurt

**A/N: Hey there, everyone! I kinda hate myself for making you all wait so long for updates, especially since it's summer, but my creative juices have been at a sort of stand-still lately, then today... This chapter popped up out of nowhere. Hope it's good, though.**

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_Two Months Later_

I walked out of the shop, taking in the cool breeze flitting over New York, seeing the sky become pink and orange as the sun continue to fade into the skyline. Manhattan truly was beautiful at this time of day, when most people were either closing their shops and businesses, families were eating their home-cooked meals, and couples were sitting down to fancy dinners in expensive restaurants, or their Chinese take-out, depending on their income.

Me? I had just closed the shop for the day as the building crew went home, slinging my guitar over my shoulder as I sat on the bench in front of the store, humming one of my old favorite pop songs in my head.

**_You make me, feel like I'm living a_**

**_Teenage dream, the way you turn me on,_**

**_I can't sleep, let's run away-_**

"Blaine?"

I looked up at the voice, and saw my favorite student. Nat had cut her hair while she had been on her vacation, I saw, and she looked confused as to why I was sitting outside and the shop had been closed.

"Hey, Natalie!" I stood up, sliding my guitar strap over my head so it rested on my neck, supported and not slipping off my shoulder. "So, you ready to go?"

Nat's eyebrows knitted together, looking completely lost. "What are you talking about? Go where?"

I gave her a look. "Your house. Remember, I told you the shop was under construction and we had to continue lessons in your house?"

Immediately, Natalie's eyebrows flew up, and her eyes flashed with fear before it was replaced by confusion once again. I didn't miss it, though. "I don't ever remember you telling me that."

I shrugged. "Well, I did. So, are we walking, or-"

She cut me off. "Blaine, why can't we just have the lessons in your house?"

"Because my house is a complete mess, and is in no way fit for guests. And Bean is sick, and he's not usually as loveable when he's like that." Bean was my fluffy collie dog that I adopted when I had moved to Manhattan. He had gotten a contagious stomach bug from a stray dog the other day on one of our walks, and unless it was me, he liked to growl at people, and be irritable. It reminded me of my brother Cooper when he was sick, or woken up too early, or not fed.

"Well, we can just skip the lesson for today, can't we?" Natalie was starting to get nervous, and I honestly didn't understand why.

"No… You paid for the whole week in advance. It wouldn't be right, and I can't refund you as of right now: all the money's going into the new office in the shop." I gave her a concerned look. "Are you okay, Natalie? This isn't the first time you've been adamant about us not going to your house."

The look in her eyes told me that she knew I was right. The first time I almost went to her house was a few weeks after we met, and she wanted to introduce me to her husband, Luther. I waited for her to come get me, and when I mentioned going to her house, she laughed nervously an insisted that there was nothing at her house that was of interest. It happened again about a week ago before her trip when I asked if she and Luther needed me to take care of their house while they were gone, and she told me everything would be fine. I could tell there was something else.

"I just- I-" Nat paused to take a breath, pressing the middle and index fingers of her right hand into her temple. "It's a complicated situation, Blaine…"

I cocked a eyebrow. "What's complicated? I'm just giving you home lessons." I sighed. "If you don't want to do the lesson, that's fine, but I can't pay you back for it just yet. Not until I have enough money after the construction-"

"No! No, it's-" She took a deep breath, and finally looked at me with defeated eyes. "It's okay. We'll go to my house. Just…" She grabbed my hand as we started walking to her car. "Just please promise me you won't say anything, okay?"

"Why would I say anything?" I asked, but she gave me a warning look, and I pretended to lock my mouth up. The whole drive there, I wondered what was so secretive hiding in her apartment.

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"Okay, remember what I said about don't say anything?"

We were standing just outside of the apartment. Her key was in her hand, and she had a finger pointing me directly in the face. I nodded, and she snatched her finger back, giving me room to breathe again.

"Alright then." With a deep sigh, she turned the key in the lock. It clicked, and she opened the door, standing aside and ushering me in.

The apartment was actually very nice. Natalie and her husband Luther worked in real estate, so they lived in what would essentially be the penthouse of the apartment building. The ceilings were high, with huge glass windows that let in tons of natural light, and the living room into which we entered was simply decorated, with a large flat screen television mounted on the wall, a few paintings framed, an armchair, and a large, comfortable looking couch.

I couldn't help but notice how Natalie kept looking around herself, trying to look for something. I decided to look at the paintings hanging on the walls.

All of them were simply framed in thin mahogany wood, but each painting had something different, something unique. The first one was a bit older according to the date in the corner of it. It was a vase holding a bouquet of red and yellow roses. The shading on each flower was absolutely perfect, and the way the colors melted together was just breathtaking.

I moved on to the next one, and it wasn't so much a painting as it was a sketch. It was a simple charcoal drawing of a woman sitting on a picnic blanket, laughing. The more I looked at it, the more it looked like Natalie herself. Once again, the shading was exact, and definitely brought out more in the picture, especially since it was black and white.

I looked at the third painting, and smiled at it. It was a paint copy of the cover of a book I had in my own apartment. The weird, human formed eyes from the cover of "The Great Gatsby" stared at me intently. It was slightly unnerving, but oddly beautiful.

I stopped at the final frame, and noticed that there was no painting in it. Instead, there was a photograph. I knew two of the thee people in it.

Natalie was easy enough to pick out. I'd seen that happy smile and those twinkling eyes enough to know it was her on sight. She was positioned on the left, her arm wrapped around one other person and Luther, her husband. Luther had silvery-grey eyes and sleek blonde hair, always reminding me of Draco Malfoy from the Harry Potter series. His hair looked much shaggier than I had ever seen it in the photo, and he was kissing the cheek of the person in the middle.

The instant I looked at the person in the center, my breath was knocked out of my lungs. This boy, whoever he was, was the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen. He had a pair of eyes that were very similar to Natalie's, but were much more striking. His lips were full and a deep, rosy pink, and they were pulled into a beautiful smile. His pale alabaster skin was slightly pink on his cheeks; he was probably blushing from Luther kissing him. His hair was the same shade as Natalie's, a light chocolate brown with hints of red and blonde hiding in it. Actually, as I looked at the two of them together… they looked almost like twins, except Natalie looked older. The only major difference was the scar going from his right ear, over his right eye, and into the left side of his hairline. They had the same eyes, same hair, same cheekbones, same skin… This _had_ to be a relative of Natalie's. If not, he was Natalie's male doppelganger.

"My brother, Kurt," a voice came from over my left shoulder. I spun on the spot, and came face to face with Natalie. Had she been there the whole time? "He's been living with us for about three years now. That was taken about a year ago." She smiled sadly, then turned to the other artworks. "He did all of this."

I gaped. "Your brother's an exceptional artist, Nat! I've never seen paintings so realistic and perfect."

"Yeah, he's been painting since he was about five." She fingered the painting of the roses. "This was one of his best. It was a bunch of flowers that Luther had gotten me for Valentine's Day, and Kurt was so taken with them. He knew he couldn't have them, as he was only visiting and they were mine, so he painted them." She sighed. "He was only 12."

My eyes grew impossibly wide. "He was _12_? That's insane!"

She shrugged, a fond smile tugging on her lips. "He's always been good." She moved to the drawing, smiling just slightly. "This was the first thing he did when he moved in with us. He was 14, and he found an old picture of our mother."

So that's who that was! "She looks just like you."

"Looked."

I blinked. "Oh, Nat, I'm so sorry, I-"

"It's okay. I was 16 at the time. It was, uh, cancer. She was really young. 34, actually." She sniffed, and I could tell that the subject was touchy for her.

"A-and your father?"

She grimaced. "My father was a wonderful man. He was kind and generous, and loved Kurt and I with everything he had… but he remarried, and the woman was-" Her face turned harsh and angry. "She was a monster. My father Burt died of a heart attack soon after he remarried, and Kurt was left in the care of my stepmother. She-"

A laugh interrupted us as she started to explain. She turned abruptly towards the entrance to what I assumed was the kitchen. The laugh still rang through my ears as I turned. It was silvery, clear, and utterly vibrant.

I turned, and was at a total loss for words. Luther was there, his eyes huge, almost like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't, but Natalie's eyes were on him. Mine were on the beautiful boy beside him. This was Kurt. Pure, real, three dimensional Kurt. He took all my breath away.

His eyes were shining with twice the intensity as the photograph, and his hair swayed gently to the left on his forehead. His porcelain skin was immaculate except for the scar, and the look on his face was one of shock and slight fear.

"Luther!" Natalie almost screamed, stepping close to her husband and smacking him in the chest. "What are you _doing_? Couldn't you hear us out here?"

Luther shook his head. "No. And why are you yelling at me?" He turned a little and looked at me with a small smile. "Hi, Blaine."

I waved my hand a little in greeting, then looked back at the beautiful boy before me. His head had dropped, and he pushed his hair back behind his ear.

"You know not to bring him out when we have guests!" Natalie turned to Kurt, taking him in her arms and leading him to the side of the room, where she took his shoulders and began to whisper to him. I felt an arm sling itself over my shoulders, and saw Luther face-palming himself.

"What's going on?" I asked him quietly, and he looked up at me, a little sad smile tugging his lips up.

"Kurt's got some… issues, with people he's never met before." He shrugged, releasing my shoulders. "It's kind of a long story."

I shrugged back. "I have a ton of time."

At this, Natalie walked back to us, Kurt shuffling behind her. She turned to him, her arm going around his shoulders. "Blaine, this is my brother. He wanted to introduce himself to you."

I tried to look into Kurt's eyes, but he kept his head bowed. I extended a hand towards him. "Hi, Kurt. I'm Blaine Anderson."

Kurt continued to look down at his feet.

"It's okay, Kurtie," Nat encouraged him, her hands rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Kurt finally looked up, and I felt my breath leave me again as I was hit with the full force of his deep eyes. Their color was beyond description, and the innocence radiating from them smacked me like a gale force wind. He gazed at my hand, then smirked a little. It disappeared as he looked me in the eyes again, and his hands suddenly began to move. I couldn't follow as well as I wanted, and wondered what the hell was going on.

As his hands dropped, Natalie spoke. "He says 'It's nice to meet you, Blaine. I'm Kurt.'"

I raised an eyebrow as realization dawned on me: Kurt had just spoken to me in sign language.

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**A/N: BAM. CHAPTER FINALLY DONE. I really should be asleep right now, because I have to wake up for camp in about 6 or 7 hours, and it's going to be my first day at a Shakespeare Camp, so I had better go. Sorry I took so long for an update. This is what happens when summer takes over and your brain shuts down for as long as it can. Still don't hate me?**


	3. A Heartbreaking Story

**A/N: Aww, you three wonderful people who sent reviews not even 24 hours after the last chapter… Thank you, so much. I'm glad you all haven't given up on me yet.**

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An hour later, I was sitting across from Natalie in the living room, Luther and Kurt off on the balcony, watching butterflies. I sipped the lemonade Nat had gotten me, and I set the guitar down. "Okay, enough playing," I said, resting my elbows on my knees and interlocking my fingers. "What's going on, Nat? I want to know."

Nat sighed, setting down the mahogany instrument I had given her. She rubbed her hands over her face. "It's not really my story to tell-"

"Natalie Sanderson, you know damn well that I cannot understand anything Kurt says. I'd rather hear a voice than watch movements that I can't comprehend." I sighed. "Just… please tell me what's going on."

She bit her lip, then scooted closer to me on the couch. "The first thing you have to understand, Blaine, is that not everyone lives happy, like you. There are bad things that happen to great people, things they don't deserve, and yet, they get them." I nodded in understanding, then she gripped my hands and began to tell the story.

"My dad was everything to Kurt after my mom died. He tried to model himself after him, sometimes going so far as to wear coveralls when he would always insist that they were constricting and ugly. After a while, my dad insisted that we needed a mother, and started dating around the time I turned 17 a year later. I knew it was far too soon, but he insisted. He met a woman at the auto shop he owned, and the two of them dated for only a year before my dad married her. I had already been with Luther by then, and he was 21 while I was 18, and at the wedding reception he asked me to marry him. I said yes and a month later moved in with him.

"It was Ava - my stepmother - who told me that my dad had died a few months later. I remember it so well. She hadn't told me he had been in the hospital for two days in a coma. She didn't tell me anything about how Kurt was. She just told me that my father was dead, the funeral was three days from then, and then… hung up. I don't remember a lot of what happened between the call and the funeral. I sort of blacked out of reality. Luther told me that I hadn't slept without crying, or eaten much. He said he didn't see any emotion out of me for the whole week until I saw Kurt.

"I remember seeing him again better than I remember anything over the past few years. When you see a 10 year old boy crying his eyes out over his father's grave but not making any noise, the image doesn't leave your mind. Everyone else there was sobbing, not holding back their cries of despair. But Kurt just sat stock-still, his tears running down his face… but he never made a sound.

"Afterwards, for the next four years, he came to see Luther and I only twice a year. Ava would allow him to spend a week of his vacation's from school with us, but even with those little visits, I could see the drastic changes in him. His first visit, it took him a while before he began speaking. The visit after that, he stopped talking to Luther, and barely said anything to me. After that, he stopped altogether. And I also noticed the bruises he started getting on his arms and legs. I figured at first that maybe he tripped over stuff again - he's always been kind of clumsy - but the fact that they were always there every time he visited began to terrify me. And there were always more than there were the last time.

"Finally, three years ago, on my wedding night, I asked him if he would dance with me. He had been wearing a scarf all night, and when he stood up, it slipped down, and-" For the first time, Natalie paused. I noticed her eyes beginning to swim with tears. I reached for her hand, and she gripped mine tightly between her own. "There were purple bruises in the shape of fingers all around his throat. I called Luther over and told him to call 911. Kurt tried to tell us not to do anything, that it would only be worse for him, but it's a good thing we didn't listen. Ava was charged with child abuse and attempted murder on a minor, found guilty, and was sentenced to 20 years in prison. Luther and I became his legal guardians, and he's been living here ever since."

I nodded, taking it all in. How could someone do something so harmful to such a beautiful person like Kurt? "But that doesn't really explain the sign language. How does abuse make somebody just stop talking and speak in sign?"

Natalie bit her lip and continued, still holding my hand. "Well, apparently the abuse Kurt suffered was more than just physical. About a week after he came to live here, we finally got him to start talking, and it was as though he couldn't stop once he began. He told us how she kept him back from school for four years, because she said 'a fag like him wasn't smart enough to understand a basic education,' that his brain was too messed up to comprehend what 'normal people' do." She gritted her teeth. "He told us about how she would throw him down the stairs when she got drunk, or worse when she was sober. She'd push him into things, or even take one of the knives in the kitchen and run it over his wrist, telling him he should be doing it himself. She once even swiped it over the side of his face, as you can see. He had told us he was pushed into a gravel parking lot by jocks and slid across the ground. Seeing those scars was probably the most heart-breaking thing I'd ever experienced."

Unconsciously, I wrapped my free hand around the sweatband I constantly wore around my right wrist. The sweatband that covered my own scars from my teenage years.

"Then he finally told us about the talking thing. His voice has always been at a naturally higher range than most boys, even when he was little. When my father first died, the first rule of the house was for Kurt to not talk, ever. Ava said that his voice wasn't fit to be heard, and when you're ten years old and still don't know how to stand up for yourself, you do what you're told. From that moment on, Kurt studied whatever sign language books he could find, or whatever internet sites he could look through until Ava took his computer away. He became fluent after not going to school for so long and not having anything else to do. He told us that he stopped talking because he didn't know how to trust anymore, not after what Ava did. But he trusted us. He always had, but he'd been afraid to talk around us for so long because he was afraid of what would happen if he told us about what Ava was doing to him."

"So… he learned sign language so that even though he couldn't talk, he could communicate?"

Natalie nodded. "It gives people the illusion that he's deaf, so that they won't have to have him talk to them. Ava brainwashed him into thinking his voice was ugly, and so now, he only talks around people that he absolutely trusts."

Both of us looked towards the balcony, watching the beautiful boy. He was smiling at a butterfly that had managed to perch on his finger. He showed it to Luther, who smiled and patted his brother-in-law on the back in a loving, comforting way.

"Has he ever left? Or gone back to school?"

The butterfly's wings began to jerk a little.

"No. He thinks it's so much safer here. He never wants to leave."

The butterfly flapped its wings and soared away into the blue of the sky, and Kurt watched it with an almost sad expression on his face.

Suddenly, comprehension dawned. "The guitar lessons are for him, aren't they?"

Natalie looked up. "Yeah… yeah, they are." She released my hand, then curled into herself, looking at me with wide, tearful eyes. "He said he wanted to try something new, so I got the lessons and have been teaching him what you teach me."

I sighed heavily, my eyes blowing out before I shut them tight. This is… really weird, to say the least. The fact that Kurt was abused is really sad, truly, but who goes so far as to make a child stop talking for four years? Although, I will admit, Kurt's tactic to go to sign language was a genius one.

"Natalie, how old is he?"

She looked up at me, then twisted her face into a calculating expression. "17. He's turning 18 in exactly a month."

I nodded slowly, then shrugged as I offered, "I can give him private lessons here, if you want."

Her eyes flew to me, and she immediately began to shake her head no. "No. No, Blaine. Kurt hasn't really interacted with anyone but Luther and I for almost four years. You don't know what you're asking here."

I eyed her speculatively. "If Kurt can willingly introduce himself to me, don't you think that something like this should be his decision?"

"How will you understand him if he doesn't talk to you?"

I thought. Now that was a good question. "I'll get you or Luther to sit in and translate until I can understand on my own. I have a photographic memory, it shouldn't be too hard."

She blinked. "You'd be willing to do that for him?"

"Of course."

Natalie bit her lip slightly, then went to the door and called Kurt and Luther inside. Kurt smiled at me sheepishly as he took a seat next to his sister, and Luther came by my side.

Natalie turned to her almost identical brother, looking very apprehensive. "Kurt… Blaine here has offered to teach you guitar himself, privately. All your lessons would be here, and either Luther or I will be with you at all times, or until you trust Blaine and he can read enough of what you're saying. How does that sound?"

Kurt sat still for a few seconds, mulling it over. He looked at me, and I tried to smile as kindly and trustworthily as I could. Kurt gave a shy smile back before signing to Natalie.

"He says 'I think this will work. He seems like a nice enough guy, and I don't think he'll hurt me. I don't trust him yet but I'll work up to it. Besides, he's actually really-'"

Natalie stopped, her eyes bugging out of her head as Kurt continued to sign the same thing, over and over again for her to understand.

"What is he saying?" I asked as Luther burst out laughing beside me.

"Interesting!" Natalie practically shouted. "He thinks you're interesting."

I gave them all a curious look, then packed up my guitar. "I think I'm just going to go, now. Nat, I'll call you and we'll figure out how this is going to work. I'll see you guys later. Kurt, it was nice to meet you. Bye…"

I left to the sound of Luther still laughing. I closed the door behind me, but leaned my ear to the door to possibly get a hint of Kurt's voice.

All I heard was Luther laughing, and Natalie saying, "'Quite sexy,' Kurt? Really? I've never heard you use that word. You don't even know if he's gay!"

Through his laughter, Luther managed, "He is! Trust me!"

I backed away from the door in slight shock. Kurt thought I was sexy?

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**A/N: Cliff hanger!… Slightly. Hope this is still enjoyed though. I wish I could have done better with Kurt's back story, but that's all that came to mind while I was writing this. Review, please and thanks!**


	4. Moby

**A/N: Hey everyone! So, compared to my last writing, hopefully this will be much more exciting to read. I'm not depressed anymore (yay!). I'm actually incredibly happy. I was just having some really bad relationship issues that week. Oh well. No big. Anywho, I've come back to this story, because for the short time I was working on it, it got some pretty good feedback. We're gonna see another OC in here. Oh yes.  
**

**Moby's back!  
**

**Also, I don't know if you guys have heard of my audio book thing. Have you ever heard of the fic Syrup and Honey by LauGS? If yes, then you'll enjoy my news. If no... GO READ IT, THEN! I am currently working on it as an audio book! I dunno if you've already heard about this or not, but if you haven't, cool! Go check it out on my YouTube channel. My username is danfan099. If you have heard about it, tell me what you think of it. I'd love some feedback.  
**

**In the meantime, enjoy some more of Blaine and his life. :D**

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I needed to clean this place.

Seriously. It looked like a tornado ran through it, followed by a roaring T-Rex. Who was uppercutting a Play-Doh can. Well, it is a Monday. And I do have nothing going on.

So, that how I ended up on my hands and knees, cleaning the kitchen/dining room floor. Scrubbing dirt off of tiles was definitely not my strong suit. I guess my dreams of becoming a male housekeeper have died with the mud on my scrub brush. How tragic.

"Need some help there?"

This is why I should have moved the table, too.

I banged my head on the underside of the dingy plank of wood, shouting as I collided with it. I guess you could say I have a habit for bumping into things when I hear loud or unexpected noises. I'm amazed I'm still intact.

I rubbed some feeling back into my skull as I came out from underneath the wood. I set my scrub brush down, and squinted at the shorter person leaning on the door frame.

A shorter person with short, straight brown hair and a slightly cocky grin that I recognized almost too easily.

"Moby?"

Her smile turned sweet, and she walked forward towards me. She probed the bump on my head with the lightest touch. "Still banging into things I see, big brother?"

"Moby!" I exclaimed again, and I wrapped my little sister in my arms and swung her around, despite the pounding ache in my head.

Several hugs and a cup of tea later, we were sitting on the couch, sipping out of two mismatched mugs, when I asked the big question. "Mobes, you know I love seeing you, and I don't object to you walking into my house unannounced, but why exactly are you here?"

Moby sighed, setting down her tea and curling her knees into her chest, her smile turning to a sad grimace. "Well, you know how I went to UCLA to be closer to Puck, and to get my English degree, right?"

I nodded as I sipped my tea, and she continued. "Well, Puck and I broke up about two weeks ago."

I almost spat hot tea all over the couch. "What?!"

She shrugged. "We agreed that we just didn't fit anymore. I may have helped him grow up, but he's more of a free spirit who likes flings with older women, and I prefer to be in a committed relationship."

I nodded. Puck and Moby had always been great together, but he was more of the MILF type, not the younger, committed type. "I can see your point. But why didn't you stay for school?"

Moby shrugged. "I didn't want to go anymore. Being an English major just wasn't my thing. So, I finished the semester, and dropped out a few months ago. I told Mom, and although she was a bit confused, she told me I could make my own decisions. I decided..." she took a deep breath. "I want to start performing again."

I almost choked on my tea this time. "You're going to be Madeline again?!"

Her eyes went wide. "No! No, no, not at all! Madeline's far behind me now. I want the world to meet Moby instead."

I nodded, thinking that over. "That's a wonderful idea, Moby. That still doesn't explain why you're here..."

She blushed, looking down. "Well... I need a place to stay while I'm getting my life in order...And I need a job... so..."

I sighed, shaking my head as a chuckle escaped my lips. "Moby, you're my little sister. Of course you can stay with me. And I've been in need of some help around the shop, anyway."

The smile that lit up her face made me realize just how right my decision was.

She jumped at me, latching her arms around my neck and squeezing tightly as I held her around the waist. "Thank you so so so much, Blaine! I owe you huge!"

I shook my head as she released me. "No, you don't. I need some company in this place. Bean's nice, but..." I looked over at my fluffy dog, who had been sleeping since he woke me up this morning. "He's not exactly entertaining company, if you get what I mean."

She giggled, then kissed my forehead, hugging me again. I forgot how much I missed my baby sister.

Suddenly, the phone began to fill the silence with it's incessant ringing. I released Moby again and reached for it, pressing the answer button.

"Hello?" I asked casually. This wasn't the office phone, so I could just answer it calmly.

"Hey, Blaine? It's Natalie."

I smiled as Moby took our cups back to the kitchen. "Hey, Nat! What's up?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering if you had any special scheduling you wanted for Kurt's guitar lessons."

Oh crap. I had almost forgotten.

Immediately, the face of Natalie's brother filled my mind. He was a bit older than Moby, maybe by a few days or a week, now that I thought about it. And his features and colors and luminescence glowed in my mind, sharper and brighter than ever.

I'd only ever met him once.

Was he supposed to have that big of an impact on me?

Moby waved a hand in front of my face as Natalie said "Blaine? Hello?"

I blinked a few times, swatting Moby's hand away as I continued speaking. "Sorry. I'm here. I just zoned out for a moment."

Natalie sighed over the phone. "Oh, okay. Well, uh... When do you want to come teach Kurt some things? He's free when you're free."

I bit my lip. "Well, my sister just came to live with me, so I'll be helping her get settled. And the office is still being worked on... Would Wednesday work?"

"Yeah, Wednesday should work just fine!" Natalie exclaimed. "We'll look forward to seeing you."

"Kay, thanks Nat."

We said our goodbyes, and I turned back to my sister, who was looking at me with a confused stare.

"What was that a second ago?" she asked, eyeing me.

I felt really small under her scrutiny. She may be two years younger physically, but she's ten years older and wiser mentally. "Well, that was Natalie, my best customer and guitar student. She was just asking when I could come teach her bro- her. She's uh... missed a couple of lessons."

My near slip-up was not unnoticed. "Her brother, huh?"

I sighed. Nobody should trust me with secrets. "Yes. But you can't say anything about him."

Her eyes lit up excitedly. "Blaine... do you like this brother of hers?"

I gaped like a fish. My sister read me better than an open book that came with a magnifying glass. "I, uh... I..."

Moby smiled. "Relax, Blaine. Let me guess..." She sat back down beside me. "It's complicated, huh?"

I nodded.

"Well, if you really like him, pursue it as well as you can."

I sighed. "I don't even know him, Moby!"

She cocked an eyebrow. "Do you know his name?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Kurt."

She smiled. "That's a nice name. And if you really like him that quick, without knowing him at all... all you need to know is a name. That's how it happened with Puck and I."

I smiled a bit. Moby was always right, no matter what the circumstance it seemed.

I just didn't know if any opportunity would be a good opportunity.

"What's so complicated about him, though? Does he carry a lot of emotional baggage? Does he has some facial deformity?" She paused, a pained expression crossing her face. "Transgendered?"

I shook my head. "No. I mean, he does have some emotional problems, and he has a really long scar that goes across his face, but, umm... He's deaf."

Moby blinked. She reached for her bag, and pulled out a large white book.

_**Talking With Your Hands, Listening With Your Eyes**_ by Gabriel Grayson.

"What is that?" I asked, taking the book from her hands.

She smiled. "A sign-language book. I took a course on it while I was at UCLA. If you plan on getting this guy, Blaine... You'd better start learning."

* * *

**A/N: Yep. Moby has returned! I want to explain her story a bit here.**  
**Moby (Madeline Ophelia Bethany Yorker) was adopted by her parents, the Yorkers, back when she was a year old. The Andersons, her biological family, gave her up because they didn't want anymore children. She became a major music star at a young age, and when Blaine found out that she was his sister, he wrote her a letter on her 10th birthday, telling her they'd find each other one day. She came to McKinley in her junior year, after her parents divorce and her fall from stardom, and Blaine knew who she was once they met. His parents wanted nothing to do with her when they found out she was bisexual, so Blaine, hating their intolerance, got emancipated and moved in with Moby and her mother.**  
**Near the end of their junior year, she and Puck started dating, and it lasted all the way up until this story, when she was almost 18. She was 16 when she graduated. **

**That's as much as I'm going to tell you. I don't think Moby would want me to give too much away for the sake of her wanting to tell the story herself. Anyway... I hope you enjoyed the chapter! That's all I've got for you right now, and I hope it was enjoyed. Now that I have all major plot points figured out, this should be moving a lot quicker. **

**Rate and review! Favorite and follow! I love all of you guys! **

**~A-Bolt**


	5. Read The Signs

**A/N: *sigh* I haven't been moving quite as quickly as I wanted. Sorry about that. I've just had waaaaaaay too much going on at one time, and I'm kind of overloaded.**

**But, we're about to get hit directly by Frankenstorm (yay?) so I'm trying to get as much done as I can. I also have to update Syrup and Honey, too. It's really been a hectic last couple of weeks.**

**Anywho, here's another chapter! It's kind of short, but it's intended.**

* * *

"That's... basically it, yeah."

I sighed, throwing my hands up in the air. "Moby, this is hopeless! It's been two days, who knows how many hours, and I still can't get these hand signals right!"

Moby gave me a hard look. "Blaine, it's because you get exasperated with yourself for not doing it perfectly. Not everything has to be perfect, you know. Kurt will understand if you can't speak clearly the first time around. You're learning how to do this for the first time, and for him. He'll be happy that you were willing to. You should be happy that I'm patient and willing to teach you this."

I nodded. "You... You're right, Mobes. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped."

She smiled softy. "It's okay. Now, let's try this again, shall we?" She waited until I nodded to continue. "Okay, so... spell your name."

I took a deep breath, and held up my right hand again. I stuck all four fingers in the air, and tucked my thumb into my palm. "B," I said.

Moby smiled in ecouragement.

I pointed my index finger up and my thumb to the side, putting all my other fingers down. "L." I made a fist with my hand. "...A?"

Moby shook her head. "Close. Don't try so hard, B. Just let it come to you. Deep breath, and try again."

I did as she asked. I breathed in, and cleared my head, focusing on nothing but the letters my hands were making. I did the B again, saying "B." I redid the L, saying this letter, too. When I got to A, I remembered what I hadn't the first time: the thumb is sticking straight up against the fingers, and the fingers aren't curled in, they're bent straight down. I tried it this way. "A." I looked at Moby, who was smiling again, and continued.

I stuck my pinky finger up only. "I." I tucked my thumb underneath my index and middle fingers. "N." Finally, I curled the tips of my fingers down, and settled my bent knuckle into the side of my hand. "E."

I spelled it out one more time, keeping my gaze locked on my hand. "B. L. A. I. N. E. Blaine."

Moby started clapping. "Good work! Now you can spell your name, you can count, and you can do the alphabet. Now that you can do these simple things, it's time to get more complex: let's learn a basic greeting, okay?"

I nodded, hoping this was easier than the name thing.

Moby made eye contact with me, then moved her hands slowly, saying what she was trying to communicate. "Hello," she said as she saluted me. She pointed to herself, then took the index and middle fingers on both of her hands and tapped them together in a cross position, saying "My name is...", then she spelled out her name with a small smile. She dropped her hands. "Now you try."

I took a breath, then imitated exactly what she did, only replacing my name with hers. She smiled widely with a nod. I shouted with glee.

"What's next?" I said, jumping in my seat with excitement.

"I have one more to show you, but then we have to go to bed. We still have to go to the shop tomorrow." I pouted, and she giggled. "Okay, do you know how to do the Spider-Man hand?"

I nodded, lifting my hand and showing her. I stuck up my pinky, index finger, and thumb, bending the other two fingers directly downward.

"Did you know that means something in sign language?" she asked.

My eyes went wide. "Really? What does it mean?"

She smiled. "I love you."

I smiled back, then leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I love you, Moby. Thanks for helping me with this."

"Of course," she replied, smiling up at me. "And who knows? Maybe that "I love you" will come in handy someday with Kurt."

I gaped and she laughed loudly. I got revenge and tickled her hard, making her scream with laughter.

"OKAY, STOP!" she shouted, and I relented, releasing my hold on her. After a few deep breaths, she looked back at me. "There's one last thing I should tell you. Tomorrow, he might give you a name."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Give me a name? I already have a name."

She rolled her eyes. "Really? I thought you were nameless this whole time." I swatted at her, and she dodged it. "But seriously, Blaine. He's going to give you something that people would call an identifier. For example, I've been identified as this." She held an "M" over her heart, then placed her left hand flat in front of her chest. She circled the "M" around her hand. "The gesture itself means "kind," but with the letter "M", it serves as an identifier. It would mean "Kind Moby." Do you get it?"

I nodded, smiling. "That's really cool. What do you think he'd give me?"

She shrugged. "Who knows? It all depends on how he sees you. If it were me, I would say this." She made a "B", then saluted me with it. Next, she brought her hands down in front of her chest, pointing at me, and touched her hands together.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Brother Blaine."

I nodded. "Okay. Cool."

I was interested to see what Kurt would name me tomorrow. I just hoped it wasn't something bad.

* * *

A/N: I hope this was worth waiting for. I like sign language more than English sometimes, and the book that Moby has does actually exist. I know, I own it. Anyway, I heard we're supposed to get bitch-slapped by Hurricane Sandy any minute now, so I'm going to post this and go. Pray I don't die!

Review, please and thanks!

Love ya!

~A-Bolt


	6. Beautiful Blaine

**A/N: What EVERYBODY (who reads this, ahem...) has been waiting for... THE FIRST LESSON!  
BAM.  
This is gonna be the chapter where Kurt and Blaine have their first real conversation. Hopefully it will be worthwhile. Enjoy!**

**P.S. ~ This chapter is from Kurt's point of view. Just saying. ;)**

* * *

The birds fly in a triangular shape through the sky, casting shadows over the sidewalk from high above the heads of passersby. They don't acknowledge them at all. I do everyday.

I envy them. They have freedom, lives, wonders to behold throughout their time on Earth. I stay cooped up in this apartment, my will to be free and cut myself away from my strings diminishing with each passing hour. I have become too safe here. I know I have.

The doorbell rings shrilly then, waking me from my deep reverie. I almost forgot that Natalie's mysterious handsome friend was coming over today.

I still remember when I met him. How shocked we both were, how tongue-tied he looked, although he had every ability to speak.

I refuse to. Every time I open my mouth around someone new, I find a reason to close it. My voice is shrill and squeaky, much higher than the average male.

And I'm very feminine in the face, something that my horrible bitch of a stepmother told me was an abomination. I have masculine features, sure; my muscles are no laughing matter. And my scar used to get me more unnecessary attention, because I looked kinda bad-ass. But my baby face, wide childlike eyes and personal style are more than a little disconcerting to the average person.

I'm gay. I shouldn't exist. I'm more abnormal than anything.

"Kurt!" Nat shouts through the apartment, her voice reverberating off of the walls. "Blaine's here! It's time for your lesson!"

I sigh in resignation and get up from my perch on the windowsill of my room.

I tip-toe my way down the stairs, and find Nat talking to Blaine, and something he's said makes her laugh.

I forgot how beautiful he was.

His thick, perfect black curls shake with carefree abandon as he moves, and poke out in every direction. A light stubble covers his chin and cheeks, making him look a little rugged when paired with his worn jeans. His warm hazel eyes smile with the glow of his bright white teeth.

How is this man real?

Just as I think this, he looks over Nat's shoulder at me, and gasps quickly before smiling again. He thinks I don't notice, but I do.

I gasped when I saw him, too.

Nat looks over her shoulder, then walks toward me, taking my hand. "K, Blaine has something he'd like to say to you."

I look at Blaine, waiting for his mouth to open, and his smooth, velvety voice to sweep through my ears, but he doesn't speak. Instead, he raises his hands and begins to sign to me.

_Hello Kurt_, he says._ My name is Blaine Anderson_.

His spelling is slow, like he's just learned it, and some of his movements are jerky, but the statement is clear, and the walls around my heart start to weaken, I know.

He learned to sign for me.

I look to Nat, nodding at her to translate, and I move my hands quickly and freely, knowing she can read what I say even though Blaine can't.

She smiles, and turns to him. "Kurt said that he's incredibly touched that you learned to sign for him, but it's not necessary. He can still hear. And his identifier, if you know what that is, is Rosy-cheeked Kurt."

I press a letter K up against my cheek, smiling at him.

He smiles back. "Hello, Kurt. I'm excited for our lessons."

I sign back, _I am too_. Nat translates.

We go into the living room, and Natalie pulls out the mahogany guitar she bought from Blaine. I fell in love with this instrument as soon as she brought it home from the shop, for it fit in my hands perfectly, and the woodwork is unbelievable.

Blaine pulls out another beautiful guitar (probably his handiwork as well), and stokes it lovingly as he tunes it. It's clear that this guitar is his prize possession.

I sign to Natalie, and she clears her throat to get Blaine's attention. "Kurt wants to know what kind of guitar you have. What wood is it?"

Blaine looks up, and instead of speaking to Natalie, he speaks directly to me. "It's maple, actually. My dad cut down my favorite old maple tree in our backyard when I was 16, and I asked him if I could have some of the wood. This is my first ever handcrafted guitar. It's uneven and misshaped, but I love it. I named her Elphie, after Elphaba from Wicked, the musical." He paused. "Have you named your guitar? It might be a good idea..."

I thought for a moment. I hadn't even considered naming the guitar. I didn't know that people usually did.

I kept thinking, then smiled, and signed to both of them.

S. A. L. L. Y.

Nat and Blaine said simultaneously, "Sally."

Nat wiped her eye and said, "Oh, Kurt..."

Blaine smiled softly and looked at the drawing of my mother on the wall. I didn't know that he knew...

As the lesson continued, Blaine reviewed with me all of the things Natalie had been showing me that he taught her. It turned out that Nat had been doing quite a few things wrong. No wonder the G chord sounded so out-of-tune. Or that I could never switch from an A-Minor to a F-Major with almost breaking a finger. She really needed to work on her retention skills. When I told her this, she smacked me on the shoulder fondly. I laughed out loud.

Blaine did well with respecting my boundaries, I was impressed. I hadn't realized how much care and thought he had put into encountering and interacting with me. He would ask me if he could place his fingers over mine to show me chords and frets, and he made sure that he didn't get impatient or exasperated. I know he must have been dealing with quite a lot of inner patience, keeping himself in check so as not to make it so that I wouldn't trust him.

I didn't trust him yet. I knew that eventually I would, but I couldn't yet.

When the lesson ended, I told Natalie that I wanted to walk him to the door.

She raised an eyebrow, her suspicion high, but she allowed me to anyway.

Blaine smiled as he walked through the door, turning back to me. "I enjoyed working with you, Kurt. I hope that as our lessons continue, that we won't need Natalie to translate anymore." He paused. "Not that you need to talk! I mean that I just want to learn signing better so that I can understand you better, so that Natalie doesn't have to sit in and she can do her thing. Unless you don't want to be alone with me, which I understand, I mean, you barely know me, and-"

I cut him off by placing my hand over his mouth gently. I sign to him using letters, because I know he doesn't know total sign yet.

Y. O. U. A. R. E. R. A. M. B. L. I. N. G. B. L. A. I. N. E.

I release his mouth and he smiles softly. "I know. I do that a lot. Sorry."

D. O. N. O. T. A. P. O. L. O. G. I. Z. E. I. T. I. S. F. I. N. E.

He nods, still smiling. "Well, I'll see you next week, then."

He turns to leave, then turns back abruptly. "Oh! I forgot. Uh... my sister, Moby, said that sometimes people who sign give others an identifier. I was just wondering if, maybe, you could give me one? You don't have to, but..." He realizes his slow start onto rambling, and silences himself, lowering his head, and looking up at me through his eyelashes.

In that moment, he looks utterly adorable. It is even possible for a man this perfect to exist? How does a higher power create a being so beautiful...

And then, it hits me, and I sign it back to him as an identifier.

I shape my hand into a B, and slowly bring it full circle around my face.

He cocks his head to the side, trying to understand. "What does that mean?"

I chuckle, then sign it back to him using the alphabet.

B. E. A. U. T. I. F. U. L. B. L. A. I. N. E.

He blushes, and bites his lip, hiding a smile. He runs his hand through his hair, then says, "Well, I'd better be going. I'll see you later, Kurt." He signs my identifier.

I wave my hand, then sign his identifier.

He turns and walks away without another word.

I shut the door and turn around to see Natalie standing behind me. I jump three feet in the air.

Her arms are crossed over her chest, and her eyebrow is cocked, like she knows something I don't.

I shrug at her, the universal sign for "What?"

She smiles. "You like him, don't you, K?"

I bite my lip and blush. She whoops with excitement, then sits me down and tells me all that she knows about him.

By the time she's done, I feel as though I've just met my soul mate.

And who knows? Maybe I have.

* * *

**A/N: Woop! Done!**  
**I hope you guys don't find Blaine's identifier too cliche, but I thought it would start to spark the relationship between our lovely boys.**

**Next chapter will be up sooner than this, hopefully. I just finished my school production, and now we're starting a student director showcase... I'm one of the directors. AH!**

**I'm doing a one-act of "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." Should be fun. My cast is great.**

**Well, I'm off to rehearsal for my third production of "A Christmas Carol." Should be fun (maybe)...**

**Rate, Review, Follow!**

**Love you guys!**

**~A-Bolt**


	7. A Day in Anderson's Acoustics

**A/N: Hey there everyone! I really am appreciating the feedback for this story. I have it all planned out and everything, so this should be flying by. I dunno how many chapters to anticipate, but let's hope this story goes on for a while. :)  
Anywho, this chapter will introduce a character we hate to love and love to hate. You know who I'm talking about... ;)**

* * *

"Moby, how's the machine coming along?"

The cash register had broken about an hour ago, and Moby had been trying to fix it to the best of her ability.

She looked over from behind the counter, her cheek smeared with oil and her short hair pulled back with a headband. "I think you might want to try hands-on money management from now on, Boss!" she called over, placing the register back on the counter. It looked fine, but knowing Moby, it would probably burst into flames upon contact.

I sighed. "Moby, what am I gonna do with you?"

She shrugged, sitting up on the countertop. "Give me up for adoption again?"

I gave her a look, and she ducked her head. I kissed her hair then picked up the register gingerly, so as not to destroy it. "And stop calling me Boss!"

She hopped off of the glass as she wiped the smear off of her cheek. "Anything you say, Mr. Anderson!"

I moaned loudly, then turned back to her with my arms crossed. "Moby, you know you can just call me Blaine."

"Ah-ah-ah!" she said, coming up and placing two fingers over my lips. "Not during business hours, sir!"

I smacked her hand away with a chuckle. "You know, I don't like the sound of sir."

"Alright, Mr. Anderson."

I turned to her. "Mr. Anderson was our father." I shuddered, thinking about the father who created us, but didn't raise us. That bastard.

She smirked. "All I'm left with is Boss, then."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Boss it is!"

She saluted me mockingly. "You got it, Boss!"

With a laugh, I went back to studying the register as the bell jingled over the door, signalling another customer. As Moby talked to the teenage boy who had walked in with a snapped guitar neck, I turned my thoughts to Kurt.

I hadn't been able to get him off of my mind for days now. The whole weekend seemed to pass in a blur of blue eyes, and Moby hadn't stopped teasing me about it. She'd been patient and helpful, teaching me new things from her sign-language book. I now understood manners, quite a few descriptive words, the seasons, and the months. When I told her of my identifier from Kurt, she had fanned her eyes like she was going to cry, then joked about how Kurt must be Helen Keller, because he's deaf _and_ blind. I gave her a sound whack on the head.

I turned back into the shop then, watching Moby handle the customer. She was actually doing well at this job. She was kind to customers, even if they weren't so kind back, and she knew her instruments and her way around the shop. I was forever in her debt. I hadn't realized how much help I'd needed until she'd shown up.

"Hey, Boss!" she called, jumping behind the counter as the boy she'd been helping came up with his broken guitar. "This is Fletcher Peddle. He needs some assistance with his guitar neck."

Fletcher handed me the guitar, and after inspecting it and telling him some details about how to take better care of it next time, I sent him out with a promise that he could pick his guitar back up on Friday. Before he was fully out the door, however, he turned back to my sister. "Hey, Moby?"

Moby turned, acknowleding him with a smile. "Yeah, Fletcher?"

He looked down at his shoes, blushing. "Can I... have your number? Just- just in case my guitar happens to malfunction again."

Moby set down the drumstick she had been polishing and pulled out her favorite silver Sharpie marker. "If you also call me for a date, then yes. Give me your hand."

Twenty seconds later, Fletcher Peddle looked like the happiest boy alive, the silver marker shining proudly on his skin.

Moby's gaze flickered to me, and she shrugged at my skeptical expression. "What?"

I wagged a finger at her. "No more flirting on the job, Madeline."

She gave me an overdramatic offended look, then sighed, throwing her hands in the air. "Alright, Mom."

Before I could retort about how I preferred Boss, the bell rang over the door, and Moby had disappeared to the bathroom.

I turned out to face the customer, who was already leaning over the glass counter with a flirtacious smile playing over his lips. He had dark brown hair that swept up and away from his face, and shallow-looking eyes that checked me out up and down nonchalantly. His smile, although unnerving, was bright and made my heart almost skip a beat.

_Almost_.

"Hi!" I said, putting on my "owner and proprietor smile," as Moby called it. "Welcome to Anderson's Acoustics. I'm Blaine Anderson. How can I help you?"

The young man leaned closer to me over the counter, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket as he did so. "Name's Sebastian Smythe. I'm just in need of some guitar strings and picks, handsome, and I'll be on my way out."

I didn't like the way this guy was staring at me, so I ignored it with a neutral expression and turned to get the strings and box of picks off of the shelf above, reaching up on my toes for it.

Big mistake.

I could feel Sebastian's eyes on my ass even from behind. It was unnerving, and I blushed under the scrutiny, fumbling a bit with the pick box.

I set the strings before him, then, looking down, asked, "What color picks would you like?"

He thought for a moment, dragging a finger down from his chin, down his chest. I resisted the urge to puke. "How about black and..." he stared into my eyes on the next color, "green."

My eyes are... ugh. Could he be more _obvious_?!

I pulled a black pick and a green pick out of the box, put them in a bag with the strings, then added the cost quickly in my head. "That'll be $10.43."

He took the twenty already in his hand and slid it forward. "Keep the change, hot stuff."

I shuddered when the door shut behind him, picking up the bill.

A flash on the twenty caught my eye, and I turned the bill over in my hand.

On the front, right over President Jackson's face, scribbled in Moby's silver Sharpie, were ten numbers.

I noticed the marker sitting on the counter, the cap rolling away from it.

Sebastian had given me his number.

Just then, I heard a slight cough, and saw Moby in the doorway to the bathroom, staring at me with a distasteful look.

"What?" I asked her.

She sighed, took the bill from me, and ran with it to the register to put it in, shouting over her shoulder, "No more flirting on the job, Boss!"

* * *

**A/N: HERE SEB COMES TO WRECK THE DAY!**

**Seriously, why do I do this? -sigh-**

**Stupid Sebastian, coming in here and thinking he can get Blaine all to himself.**

**THINK AGAIN, SEBBY. THIS IS KLAINE'S STORY, BITCH!**

**Our dear Mr. Smythe will have more of a plot later on in the story, but right now, he's just here to wreak havoc, something he does quite well.**

**I really don't like him, if you haven't noticed. **

**Well, I'm going to go shine the Nightbird symbol. I need a visit from the nocturnal avenger so that I may hug his precious face and make him not hurt anymore.**

**Rate and review!**

**Love you guys! (Stay strong through this Klaine hiatus, because we know that's all it is.)**

**~A-Bolt **


	8. Deal With a Modern Day Devil

**A/N: I don't think you guys understand how much I appreciate your love of Moby. She was a character I created for the third season that I would have loved to play (and I still have't given her her own story... -sigh-), and you guys just seem to positively adore her. I'm so thankful for that. I didn't think anybody would like her, or think that her character as realistic, but you guys love her, and some people say she's their favorite. I- just- I can't even with you guys. I love you all. Seriously.**

**Here, have some more Moby goodness for your troubles. WATCH OUT, THOUGH. A WILD SEBASTIAN IS ON THE LOOSE HUNTING DAPPER YOUNG MEN WHO WORK IN GUITAR SHOPS. **

* * *

Sebastian came back the next day. He claimed that he needed some wood glue, and after I told him that I didn't carry it (even though I really did, I just wanted him gone), he chuckled seductively (or at least, he tried to, anyway) then gave me his number again and flounced out. Moby had smacked me upside the head when I picked up the little folded paper, and giggled with glee as she burned it later that night.

"Why are you burning that?" I asked her, stabbing my fork into the microwave pasta dish I was eating for dinner.

She gave me a dark look. "Because that guy is bad news, Blainers, and I don't want you calling him or getting involved with him."

"And why is that, oh mysterious one?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Because you have Kurt to think about."

I widened my eyes as she turned her back, then sighed, walking back to the kitchen. "Do not burn the place down, Madeline Ophelia, or I will be forced to give you back to the nice Lybians we bought you from."

She laughed, poking her head in the kitchen door. "You forgot my other names."

I shook my head at her. "Calling you Madeline Ophelia Bethany Yorker Anderson takes too much energy. By the time I finished, I wouldn't even be mad at you anymore. I'd be too tired."

Moby smirked in agreement, then smiled. "This whole ordeal gives me free reign to call you Blaine Devon whenever I want to, you know."

I grimaced, throwing a lemon from the fruit bowl at her. She ducked it cleanly, heading back to the living room. "I hate you, you know."

She yelled back at me from her perch on the couch as the paper turned to ash. "Love you too, bro!"

* * *

The next day, Wednesday, I was scheduled to go back to Natalie's to give Kurt his second guitar lesson. I thought about him all day, wondering about when he would start to trust me. I knew it would take some time, but it was worth it.

And of course, as soon as I think of Kurt, in walks Sebastian again.

Before he even got a word in, I slammed my hands down on the glass countertop. "Okay, Sebastian, what do you want?"

He cocked an eyebrow, a small smirk twisting onto his lips. "Excuse me?"

I sighed, closing my eyes and turning my head to the floor. "You've come here three days in a row now. You flirt with me shamelessly, even though I make it obvious that I have no interest, and you have left your number with me twice. If I wanted to call you, I would have done it by now. You obviously don't want anything from my shop, so why do you keep coming here?"

He took a minute to process my words, then smiled suggestively. "I'm not one to give up so easily, Mr. Anderson. I get what I want most of the time, and usually when I want it. I gave you my number because I thought you were absolutely gorgeous, and I wanted to take you out to dinner on Friday. So, how about it?"

I gaped like a fish out of water, my mouth opening and closing repeatedly until I found my voice again. "Sebastian, I'm kind of interested in somebody right now."

It was the first time I had ever truly embraced how much I liked Kurt. Two meetings, and his impression on me was stronger than I believed possible.

Too bad Sebastian was still talking, so I couldn't really relish in the feeling of having a crush.

"Only interested, huh?" he asked, leaning over the glass to display his ass in the air behind him. I resisted the urge to vomit in my mouth. "Not dating or anything, right?"

I swallowed down the bile slowly rising in my throat that appeared whenever Sebastian so much as came to mind. "No, I'm not dating anyone," I said, gripping the wooden border of the counter so hard it could snap.

"Then why not take a chance?" Sebastian asked, twirling his fingers in the air languidly. "Who knows what you'll be missing if you don't come, and who knows how you'll feel if you do? It's only one date, Blaine. That's all I'm asking for."

I pressed my lips into a hard line. Oh good God, was I really _thinking _about this? On the one hand, maybe Sebastian could be right. Maybe I would enjoy myself, although the result of that happening was highly unlikely. On the other hand, if I bent to this one request, and I don't enjoy myself (Heaven forbid I do), then maybe Sebastian would leave me alone.

I looked him in the eyes. All that looked back at me was obvious seduction. Again, holding back projectile puke. "If I go on this one date with you, and I don't enjoy myself, that's it? You'll leave me alone?"

"That... depends," Sebastian preened. "By what do you mean 'alone'?"

"I mean you completely stop provoking me," I said, my voice sounding strong despite my being so scared of accepting this. "You never come back here for things you don't need just to stare at me, you don't talk to me if you see me in the street, you don't speak to my baby sister if you see her in the street, and you stop trying to seduce me. Deal?"

I stuck out my hand, making this much more formal. Accepting this date was starting to feel more and more like a really bad business investment.

Sebastian considered my terms, probably trying to think of loopholes in my demands, but after a moment or two he slipped his long fingered hand in mine and shook once, firm. "Deal." He tugged my hand, pulling me closer to him over the counter as he whispered in my ear, "I'll see you on Friday then. I'll pick you up from here around 6."

Without another word, he released my hand, straightened himself up, and walked out of the door nonchalantly, the little bell above it tinkling in finality.

Feeling boneless and slightly sick, I let myself stay draped over the countertop, relishing in the cold glass against my cheek chilling my overheated, blushing skin.

And then the realization of what had just happened hit me.

No, it literally hit me.

A hand came down on my head, swift and firm and stinging, and I jumped up at the slap, crying out and clutching at my scalp to stare at my assailant with tear-filled eyes.

Moby gave me an angry look, crossing her arms over her chest and breathing through her teeth. She looked like a raging bull, kind of like Mom had done a few times when she was mad at either of us. I guess that's where Moby got it from.

"What was that for?" I shouted, rubbing feeling back into the swelling skin on top of my head.

Moby cocked her head to the side. "Sorry, not sorry," she said, bitterly sarcastic. "Blaine Devon, what the hell is_ wrong with you_?!"

I widened my eyes. "Excuse me?"

Moby scoffed, throwing her arms in the air. "You agreed to go on a date with him? Are you _fucking_ insane? Do you realize what you're putting at stake here?"

"Putting at stake? It's not like he can take anything away from me, Mobes," I said, leaning on the counter, trying to be patient with my little sister. It wasn't that she was making me upset through her behavior. She was making me realize how much older she was in the mind than me, how she thought things through better than I did.

"Have we already forgotten sweet little doe-eyed Kurt? And yes, Blaine, he can takes something away from you. He can take away your dignity, your sanity, not to mention your virginity!"

"Hey!" I shouted over her ranting. "He's not going anywhere near my ass or my dick, for your information. And I think I'm smart enough to not take a drink with drugs in it."

Moby sighed, shaking her head. "Blaine, you're so naive." With an almost sad look, she said "You realize that even if you wouldn't take anything he drugged, he can still drug it when you don't look?"

I slapped my forehead, coming to the realization that I really was a dumbass. "I'm sorry, Moby. I made a mistake in agreeing, I know, but think about it! He could leave us alone forever if I do this!"

Moby rolled her eyes. "Or he could get you so drunk that you sleep with him, and end up falling for him like some lovesick teenager and get married."

I laughed dryly. "I highly doubt that, sister dear. Just the mere thought of it is almost too nightmare-ish."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to see." As she walked to the the door to flip the sign to closed, she leaned against it, smiling wickedly at me. "Just because you're going on a date wih him however is not going to stop me from calling him the Dark Lord Satan."

* * *

That night, after I gave Kurt his lesson, I asked Natalie if I could speak to her in private.

When we were alone by the door, I told her all about Sebastian, and my date on Friday, and how guilty I was feeling for it.

"I don't get it," she said, cocking an eyebrow at me. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

I blushed. Apparently, this wasn't as good of an idea as I thought. "N-no reason. Just letting you know and making sure you can give the cops his name in case the guy tries to rape and kill me."

Natalie smiled slyly. "It's more than that, Blaine. You're blushing..." Her eyes widened, but her smile stayed. "Oh my God... you like my brother, don't you? That's why you're telling _me_ all this, isn't it?"

I sucked in a breath, preparing my explanation. What was I going to say? That yes, after meeting the younger boy three times I was developing a crush on him? An emotionally and physically scarred, abused, scared young man?

I couldn't come up with anything that resembled words. I nodded instead.

Natalie's arms were suddenly flung about my neck, practically smothering me. "Thank the Lord!" she exclaimed into the air, causing Luther and Kurt to poke their heads out of the kitchen at the same time to stare at me.

When I caught sight of Kurt's blue eyes on me, I wriggled out of Nat's grasp and headed for the door, flinging it open and starting the walk down the hallway to the elevator.

I heard the sound of jogging footsteps behind me.

"Sorry about that," Nat said, stopping me in front of the elevator with a hand on my shoulder. "It's just... If there's anybody who I'd want to have being with my brother, it's gotta be you. Blaine, you're the most selfless, trustworthy, kind person I know. I think that maybe you shouldn't act on this yet, but I think that you have the potential to being him out of the shell he keeps locked around him."

"Whoa, whoa," I breathed, placing my hands on either side of my head, pulling myself together. "Why are you so excited about this? Aren't you worried about me hurting him or anything, if anything comes of this crush?"

Nat sighed, kissing my forehead. "B, I've seen my baby brother so broken. I've had to put him back together in more way than I thought were possible. It killed me to see him like that. He's fixing himself, he's healing, and I think he's ready to start over. The problem is, he's let himself get too comfortable in his solitary silence." She gripped Blaine's shoulder, squeezing it. "I think you have the potential to help him break down some walls, not only around him, but around his heart. He can love, but only Luther and I, the only people who cared about him after Ava did what she did to him. I think you are exactly what he needs, physically and mentally."

"So what you're saying is..." I said, my eyebrows knitting together as I thought everything she said through, "if I was to date your brother, and we fell in love... You'd give us your blessing?"

She nodded, her eyebrows raised. "In so few words, basically, yeah."

I nodded, a small smile lifting the corners of my mouth. "I suppose we'll see then."

* * *

Friday crept up on me way too fast. Thursday was spent discussing more renovations with my contractor while Moby ran the shop, and Friday was customer-filled mayhem.

Fletcher Peddle came back again to get his newly fixed guitar, and asked Moby on a proper date set for next weekend. With a quick eye at me for approval, I had shrugged and she nodded at him excitedly. He promised to call her later with better details, and left walking like he had just won the lottery. Moby spent the rest of the day at work sighing, staring out the window. I was happy she was gettng over Puck. She deserved to move on.

Before I realized it, it was 5:45, and I was running around the tiny apatment like a madman, jumping up and down trying to slip shoes on, tying and retying my skinny blue tie, adjusting my skinny jeans so they weren't so uncomfortable against my crotch.

Moby sat on the windowsill, watching the street for signs of Dark Lord Satan (even I had taken to calling him that now), Bean's head in her lap. She stroked his shaggy fur lovingly as she waited, eyes peeled for my "date."

"Is it really necessary to get this worked up over how you look?" she asked, leaning a bit to look farther down the street. Bean whined when she jostled him a bit. "I mean, isn't the point for him not to like you?"

"No," I reminded her, tucking my undershirt into my waistband. "The point is to not enjoy it so that I may tell him I never wish to see him again. Might as well leave him high and dry for all the trouble he's put me through."

Moby nodded, glancing over at me. "I have to agree. With you looking like that, Satan won't be the only one getting hard tonight."

I frowned slightly, trying to decipher her misguided attempt at flattery. "I'll take that as a compliment, thank you."

She smiled, lookng back out the window, and started to flail her arm about, careful not to whack Bean in the head. "Blaine! Blaine, he's here! The Dark Lord Satan approacheth!"

I laughed, then kissed the top of her head as I scrambled for my keys and phone and headed for the door. "No parties while I'm gone, Madeline, or I'll call Mom, I swear I will."

She rolled her eyes. "Will you relax? I'm more reliable than you when I'm alone, Mr. 'Mom's-Gone-For-Two-Hours-Let's-Drink-All-Her-Tequila.'"

I sighed in exasperation. "One time!"

"Yeah, yeah," came the response.

With one more scoff, I began to close the door. "Hate you!"

"Hate you too, Honey Bee!" she called back, love clearly evident in her voice.

With a small chuckle, I shut the door and headed downstairs to the shop, prepared to face my doom.

* * *

**A/N: Definitely longer than I thought it would be, but I hope it was enjoyed. I was dicussing Satan with my sister earlier, and she called him the Dark Lord Satan, which led to Sebby's new nickname. Heeheehee, I so hate him. Though, not so much in the show anymore. He's alright now, I suppose. I just hate him in this story. You'll find out why later.**

**Oh! And when Blaine and Moby talk about "Mom," they are not discussing Mrs. Anderson, the woman who birthed them and raised Blaine. They are talking about Dora Yorker, the woman who adopted Moby and considers Blaine to be her son. Dora will be coming by later, of course, and you'll see where Moby gets the baddassedness... is that even a word? IT IS NOW.**

**Anywho... I've got to get to bed. I just wanted to finish this chapter. Hope you guys like it! **

**Reviews would be a wonderful belated Christmas present. ;)**

**Love ya!**

**~Annie**


	9. Creep (Motorhead Narrates My Life)

**A/N: You know what really sucks?**

**Writing this whole chapter, having it ready to go, finally finishing it... and then my computer starts freaking out.  
And has to reload the page.  
Before I saved anything.**

**If I haven't said this before: I DESPISE MY LAPTOP. IT'S SLOW AND STUPID AND I DON'T LIKE IT.**

**Anyway, rage over. Time to rewrite...**

* * *

I walked home. Seven blocks at one in the morning, and I walked home, smelling like fruity alcohol and smoke, and covered from head-to-toe in glitter. I could have been mistaken for some kind of gay Christmas ornament.

I almost cried when the shop came into view a few feet away. I fumbled with my keys, my hands shaking, and tip-toed through the glass door.

I forgot, unfortunately, that the shop came with an alarm system.

Damn.

I rushed to the beeping box, pressing the code in quickly: 0530, Moby's birthday. The beeping ceased abruptly, and I sighed, relaxing a little.

I made my way slowly up the creaky stairs, in absolutely no hurry to go inside. I didn't know if Bean would attack me at the door, or if Moby would be up, waiting for me.

All I knew was that I wanted to get clean and sleep.

When I opened the door, the apartment was still. The television was showing a rerun of _I Love Lucy_, the black and white color casting shadows on the sleeping face of my little sister.

I smiled softly at her calm and peaceful form, then let out a deep breath. I would have to explain this to her and I knew it. I couldn't just _not_ tell her about the date.

With a small groan, I wandered into the bathroom in my bedroom, grabbing some pajamas as I went. I slammed the door behind me, tired and out of it.

Big mistake.

"Blaine?" came a confused voice from outside my room. I cursed softly under my breath. I'd woken Moby up.

A soft knock came at the bathroom door. "Blaine? Is that you?"

I rolled my eyes briefly at my own stupidity. "Yeah."

"Can you open up?"

I knew she wouldn't leave unless I did, so I stepped to the door and flung it open.

Moby stared at me with wide eyes for about two seconds before she burst into peals of laughter. After some time, I began to laugh with her. I really must be a sight, covered in glitter with my shirt almost undone and rumpled.

"What... what happened?" she choked out, wiping her eyes.

I turned to the bathtub, flicking the faucet handle, feeling the cold water turn warm under my fingertips. "A lot of bad stuff."

Moby smacked me lightly on the shoulder as I reached for the bubble soap. "Blaine. Elaborate, please."

I began unbuttoning my shirt, stretching my stiff, cold muscles. I almost undid my pants before I remembered Moby was staring at me. I blushed a little. "Can you leave, please? I need my privacy, and you standing there lookng at me doesn't help."

Moby shook her head. "I'm not leaving. You haven't told me anything."

"Mobes..."

"Okay, let's make a deal," Moby offered, smiling softly at me. "You talk, I wash off all the glitter and your gel helmet, okay?"

I chuckled a little at the gel helmet remark. I really did overdo it when it came to hairgel. "Alright. But could you at least turn around so that I can finish stripping and get in the water?"

With a small nod, Moby spun on the spot, her head cast down so she couldn't look in the mirror to her right. She waited patiently as I peeled off my skinny jeans and boxer briefs. I didn't take her out of my peripherals until my genital area was safely covered by bubbles.

"Alright, you can turn around now."

Moby smiled as she turned back, grabbing a cup out from under the sink as I shut the water off. She reached for the shampoo on the ledge and squeezed some of it into her hands, rubbing it between them a bit before she began to gently massage my scalp out of its current plastered state.

"Mmmm..." I hummed, relaxing my body and slipping further into the bubbles. They smelled like lavender. "You have no idea how good that feels..."

Moby chuckled. "I think I can imagine. Just don't get a boner from it again like you did that last time."

I rolled my eyes and groaned. "That was once!"

She mimicked me in a mocking tone as she poured water over my head without warning. After sputtering for a moment, I turned to see her putting the cup back in the water again. I closed my eyes this time as she slowly poured the water down again. With a sigh, I laid back against the warming porcelain, almost sobbing with relief at the feeling.

"So, are you going to explain?" Moby asked as she pulled a washcloth out from our towel cabinet.

I bit my lip, thinking through the night in my head as she sat back down beside me.

* * *

Sebastian had been waiting at the door of the shop like a lost puppy when I got down the stairs from the apartment. As soon as he saw me, he put on a confident smirk and started to claw at the door seductively.

Again, I found myself trying not to vomit.

"You're going to scratch my glass," I said in greeting as I unlocked the door, turning to lock it up again.

"I'd rather be scratching something else of yours that rhymes with glass..." Sebastian whispered in my ear from behind me.

I shuddered, not from pleasure, but from the sheer creepiness of the action. "Sebastian. I would appreciate it if you didn't say things like that. It makes me uncomfortable."

With a small sigh, Sebastian moved away and nodded. "Okay. I promise that I'll try to keep my distance."

He kept that promise for less than an hour.

After we arrived at XES Lounge (a gay bar/club that I had never even heard of before), Sebastian immediatey ran to the bar for drinks before happy hour ended in an hour and a half. I never understood the concept of happy hour. It says "hour," doesn't it? If it says one hour, why does it run for six or more?

Anyway, within the meager half hour we had been there, Sebastian had managed to get more drunk than I imagined possible for someone his size. I sat at the bar most of the night, taking on the role of designated driver and sipping at a bottle of root beer.

I watched with slight amusement as Sebastian grinded against a drag queen who looked about fifty. The fake blonde wig on the guy's head kept falling off, revealing his bald scalp.

What was I doing here? I didn't belong here... I wondered if there was a karaoke machine somewhere. I suddenly felt the urge to sing Motorhead.

After another few hours of watching my "date" dance and make out with at least ten other old guys, he seemed to remember that he came tonight with somebody. He stumbled across the dance floor to me.

"Hey there, sexy," he mumbled, every word coming out slow and garbled. His breath reeked of artificially-flavoured liqour. "Why aren't you - _hiccup_ - out on the dance floor, having fun?"

I rolled my eyes. "Call me crazy, but this is not my idea of 'fun.'"

Sebastian smiled, chuckling loudly as he slapped my chest lightly. "I know what you need." He snapped his fingers suddenly, sticking his arm up above his head. "Hey, Alfred! Come here. I have someone for you to - _hiccup_ - meet."

Through the crowd pushed a younger looking guy, drifting around drunkenly on a pair of roller blades. His crop top and booty shorts were way to small for him, and his almost black eyes were unfocused. He rolled over to us, and flung his arm around Sebastian's neck, a cigarette sagging between his teeth.

"Hey there, Sebby. I didn't know you were coming tonight, babe," the guy mumbled, stroking the side of Sebastian's face with his fingertips. He had some odd accent that I couldn't quite place. Probably because he was heightening the sound of his voice on purpose.

Sebastian smiled at him blearily. "Hey there, Alfred. You look superb." He turned to me, gesturing grandly at me with his hand. "This is Blaine Anderson. He's a newbie."

"Alfred" turned to look at me, and his eyes widened slightly. "Oooh, a newbie, huh?" He rolled away from Sebastian and onto my lap. I raised both of my arms to my sides, keeping my hands off of him.

Alfred took a long pull from the cigarette, then blew the smoke into my face. I coughed harshly.

"So, you're the hunk that Sebby has been telling me about. Blaine..." He rolled my name off of his tongue seductively. I had never hated the sound of those six letters more... "Why are you not drunk yet, Papi?"

I cocked an eyebrow. _Papi? What the fuck_? "I'm his designated driver tonight." I nodded to Sebastian, who was ordering yet another brightly colored alcoholic beverage.

Alfred pursed his lips. "That's so funny! I'm _your_ designated driver tonight." He leaned in close to me, whispering, "I'm designated to drive you to drink."

I shut my eyes tight, very unsure of what to do, when I felt a sharp jabbing in my leg.

"Alfred... please tell me that you have something resembling a stick in your pocket," I said warily, preparing for the worst. Wouldn't be the first time.

Alfred ran his hands down my chest. "Oh, there's a stick alright, but it's not in my pocket..."

Without a second to lose, I pushed Alfred off of my lap. He rolled back on his skates, slightly stunned, as I stood up and began to head for the door.

"Where you going, Papi?" Alfred asked, rolling in front of me. "This party just got started."

"Hey!" a garbled voice shouted from behind me. A hand clutched at my arm, and forced me around to stare at Sebastian, who had a large cup of something in his hand. "I got you a Happy Day!"

I paused. "Is that what that cup is?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yep. It's supposed to make you happy."

I shook my head. "I'm not much of a drinker, Sebastian."

He laughed drunkenly, leaning on my shoulder. "It's not a drink, silly!"

Within a few seconds, I was covered from head-to-toe in brightly colored glitter. The whole club cheered and screeched with joy as I opened my eyes again.

Oh, no. My temper was flaring up. I had a rather infamous temper that scared the living piss out of anybody that brought it out, and right now, with his pathetic little snarky meerkat face, Sebastian was a prime target.

This wouldn't be pretty.

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!" I screamed at him. Suddenly I felt several feet taller, towering over everyone in ear shot.

Sebastian was at a loss for words. He shrugged one shoulder, stunned, his eyes blown wide.

"Sebastian, I did this so that you would leave me alone! You asked me on this stupid date! I said yes! I went on this dumbass date so that you would leave me alone if I didn't enjoy myself! And you know what? _I am HATING IT here!"_

Without another look at the collection of people staring at me, I stormed out of the door.

"Blaine!" I heard behind me. "Blaine, wait!"

I stopped, taking a deep breath. "I don't have anything to say to you, Sebastian."

Sebastian ran up in front of me, grabbing my shoulders. "Come on, look. I'm sorry, okay? Maybe we can try this again sometime, and we'll do something you want to do-"

"No!" I cut him off. "I will never go anywhere with you _ever_ again. You promised me, Sebastian. You promised me that you would leave me be if I didn't want to go out with you again. Well, guess what? I don't. So stop coming into my store, stop flirting with and sexually harrassing me, and get your fucking life sorted out, because doing things like this, knowing regular patrons at bars by their first names... that's not how people live."

"Blaine, stop, please!" Sebastian shouted, still clinging to my shoulders. He pressed his insistent lips to mine, thinking that would calm me down.

It definitely didn't.

"Kurt..." I whimpered when he broke away.

His eyes went wide. "That's not how you say my name."

I smirked. "No, it isn't. It's how you pronounce the name of my future boyfriend. Now if you'll excuse me..."

The future boyfriend comment had definitely caught him off guard, and he didn't follow me this time as I began the mile long trek back to my home.

* * *

By the time my story was finished, Moby had managed to wash as much of the glitter off as she could, her gentle hands running the washcloth one last time across my chest. She sat back with a sigh. "You really like Kurt, don't you?"

I chuckled darkly. "That's what you got out of the whole story?"

"Well," she mumbled, grabbing the towel off of the rack and turning back around as I climbed out, "when you say someone else's name during a kiss, that tends to stick out among other facts."

I sighed, pulling my T-shirt over my head and rubbing the towel through my freed, unruly curls. "Yeah, well... I guess I do like him."

Moby nodded, and we left the bathroom together.

"I'm gonna head to bed," I grumbled softly. "I still have to open the shop tomorrow... well, later today, anyway."

Moby nodded, heading back to the living room. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

I closed my bedroom door, and fell asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

* * *

I was lying in a field of bright flowers, all of them different colors, flowing together to make a rich shade of blue-green. There was cyan, gold, jade... They reminded me a lot of Kurt's eyes.

As I closed my own eyes, I could see Kurt's face behind my lids. He was smiling at me serenly, his scar not quite so stark against his pale skin, and his golden brown hair swaying in the breeze.

I opened my eyes again... and there he was.

"Kurt..." I whispered, running my hand down the side of his face. He leaned into the touch, his eyes glancing at me shyly. He opened his mouth, about to say something. Was I finally going to hear him speak?

"Hola, Papi," he mumbled at me, Alfred's voice emenating from his pink lips.

The warmth I had been feeling in my heart froze. My body was suddenly very numb, and I couldn't move. Kurt's calm smile changed into a seductive grin, and he leaned in and kissed my hard, his lips insistent and violent. The flowers around us died, and when he pulled away, I was staring at Sebastian.

I screamed.

* * *

"KURT!"

I bolted upright in bed, shouting in agony, knowing I would wake up Moby. I waited for her to burst throuh the door, but she didn't.

Instead, a familiar pair of arms wound around my shoulders, and a soft hand scratched the back of my head comfortingly.

"Shhh, Blaine, honey, it's okay," Moby whispered in my ear, kissing my shoulder gently.

"Mah-Moby?" I asked, reaching my hand up to grip her wrist firmly.

"Yeah, it's me, Honey Bee..." she said soothingly, bringing me back down onto the bed.

I looked up at my little sister, frowning slightly. "What are you doing in here?"

She sighed, tired. "You started crying in your sleep about twenty minutes ago. I came in here and laid with you. Then you started talking... and then you freaked out and woke up. Do you want me to go?"

"No," I whimpered immediately, and hugged Moby tight around the waist, leaning my head on her chest. Her boobs were actually quite comfortable pillows, and I was asleep almost immediately.

The last thing I remembered were Moby's arms wrapping around me, and her kissing my forehead and telling me she loved me.

* * *

**A/N: I dunno why, but I wanted to have Moby cuddling Blaine. In my head, he's always sooooo protective of her, but he's always been the one that really needed protecting. She was always the one to hold him when he was sad or scared, or stand up for him when he needed it, even though she's younger than he is.**

**I just love writing her, though. The more of her I write, the more multi-dimensional she gets. Not only is she a badass with a good sense of humor, but she's also an incredibly caring younger sister. :)**

**Anywho, that's all for now.**

**Love you guys!**  
**~Annie**


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